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contemporary poetry

though i am little as all little things
i have heard them in the night
who is the runner in the skies
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
from our hidden places
better than granite
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
rocked in the cradle of the deep
a thousand silent years ago
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
over the river they beckon to me

 



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